


Backroom Negotiations

by Ias



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marking, Neck Kissing, Negotiations, Rough Kissing, Secret Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard's diplomatic methods are very effective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backroom Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [my tumblr](http://curmudgeony.tumblr.com/post/133285203552/queenstardust-requested-barduil-9-jawline) for the prompt "jawline kiss".

“You won’t distract me, you know.”

Bard pulled back from his ministrations to Thranduil’s earlobe. The glow of the torches left a bright sheen over his eyes, but beneath it his pupils were full and dark. “You don’t think so?” he murmured, leaning in again to press a kiss to Thranduil’s mouth. Deftly he caught Thranduil’s lower lip between his teeth, and gave it a gentle tug “Perhaps you underestimate me.”

Thranduil forced himself to focus on Bard’s face, to yank back from the haze that was quickly settling over his mind. “My kingdom must charge higher tariffs on the grain we import from Dale. The rates you’re suggesting are unheard of.”

“Unheard of?” Bard grinned, and the sight of it was enough to make Thranduil arch off the unfamiliar bed, pinned down by Bard’s weight on top of him. The man leaned back, away from Thranduil’s questing mouth, and settled more securely over his hips. It was all Thranduil could do not to buck up into that pressure, to give Bard exactly what he wanted.

“You know what would be truly unheard of,” Bard mused, staring at Thranduil spread out beneath him with an expression that redefined Thranduil’s knowledge of hunger. “The king of the Woodland Realm, riding out of Dale in all his finery with a necklace of bruises wound around his throat.” Bard’s fingers slid up over Thranduil’s tunic, skimming past its edges to stroke at the delicate skin of his neck.

“Is that a threat, Dragonslayer?” Thranduil whispered, his eyes fluttering shut at the touch.

A moment later he felt Bard lean forward again, and trail his lips over the curve of his neck. Gentle. For now. “Perhaps it is a promise.”

Thranduil swallowed, could not help the gesture, and he felt Bard’s lips chasing the motion all the way down to the hollow of his throat. “Do your worst,” he said, lacing every word with a challenge. “I’ll favor a high collar for the rest of my stay, and our tariffs will remain unchanged.”

He knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. At once Bard’s eyes were on his again, burning with a wildness Thranduil only ever saw behind his chamber doors. In the public eye Bard was reserved, collected, only the flutter of wit or laughter to suggest at the spirit beneath. In the privacy of a shared bed, he held nothing back.

Bard’s hands slid down Thranduil’s arms, stopping at the wrists with a firm grip. “Would you hide my marks away?” he whispered against Thranduil’s lips. “Cloak them from curious eyes beneath layers of silk, as if the finer things were not beneath?” Slowly, he pressed Thranduil’s wrists down to the pillow beside his head.

“People would talk,” Thranduil gasped, as Bard’s hips shuddered down against his own.

“Good,” Bard said, his voice harsh and rough. “Let them know you’re mine.” For only one moment Thranduil could entertain the fantasy, imagine the looks he would get as his hair fell aside to reveal the purple and red glaring from his skin. It was impossible. Bard knew this as well as he did. But behind these walls, they could both pretend.

“But then again,” Bard murmured, his lips teasing at Thranduil’s between each word. “Perhaps I should set my lips somewhere the silks cannot hide.” His touch wandered to the corner of Thranduil’s mouth, then beyond–his teeth grazed over the edge of Thranduil’s jawline, and that time Thranduil made no effort to stop the way his hips rocked up in response.

Bard’s kisses grew harder then, sucking and teasing and nibbling at the skin along Thranduil’s jaw, his hands still pinning Thranduil’s to the bed beneath them. “Your bones are so delicate,” Bard murmured against his pulse point. “So easy to bruise.” Thranduil could not collect himself enough to suggest that such a thing would be a bad idea. There was nothing but the pressure, the little bursts of pain, and the rich, soothing pleasure that followed as Bard put his tongue to use.

The man pulled back again his eyes dancing with a smile as he took in Thranduil’s expression. “Well, my lord?” he murmured. “Shall I stop?”

Thranduil let out a ragged breath, the last of his determination rushing out with it. His only reply was to tilt his head back, and expose the pale, inviting expanse of his throat.

 

 

 

The next day, Thranduil appeared at the meeting wearing a collar that stretched high enough to tickle his chin. Bard and Dane were already present, speaking over the trade documents spread on the table. Bard looked up, took in Thranduil’s conservative style of dress, and grinned.

“Ah, King Thranduil. We were just beginning to discuss a potential reduction in Mirkwood’s grain tariffs…”


End file.
